


Into The Woods

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choking, Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Degradation, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hypnosis, Mind Manipulation, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: You get into a bit of trouble when you go to find Michael to get Dean back.~~~~~~~~~~“You aren’t looking for me, are you?” There was a tinge of humor to his words, spoken with that stolen voice, Dean’s voice.You turned, useless angel blade at the ready, and gasped. Michael obviously went shopping, outfitting Dean in a perfectly tailored suit. It killed you a bit how fucking good he looked.He brushed his hands down the vest of his suit, dulled green eyes examining Dean’s body. “Yes, Dean does clean up nicely.”Those eyes flicked to yours as you scowled at the archangel, angry that he’d read your thoughts. “Dean’s not supposed to be all clean-cut and pretty! He’s better when he’s-”“Dirt and blood-soaked, muddy flannel and denim clinging to a feral frame?” Michael finished for you.





	Into The Woods

C**hapter Warnings: **1**8+ HERE BE SEX! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!,** facefucking, spanking, choking, hypno/mental manipulation, unprotected sex, rough sex, use of degrading language, biting, dubcon/noncon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure why you thought you could sneak up on him. It was the dumbest plan you’ve ever come up with, but…he had Dean. Dean, the man who rescued you from Purgatory when you were right on the edge of surrendering to the feral mindset of that primal environment. Dean, who taught you how to hunt so that you would have a way to work through your aggressive tendencies.

Dean, who would never call you his girlfriend because that’s too fucking intimate, but always found his way into your bed. Dean, who you were hopelessly in love with no matter how you tried to claim you were just “Friends with benefits”.

Michael stole him. Preyed upon a moment of desperation and took Dean away from you…from Sam and Mary and Jack and Cas, too, but it hurt so much that you couldn’t commiserate with them. Cas left to run leads and you left on his heels, chasing your own.

Sister Jo pointed you to the woods you were moving through, said there was an old cabin with a vamps’ nest he’d expressed interest in. You had barely gotten eyes on the rotting wood facade when you heard wings.

“You aren’t looking for me, are you?” There was a tinge of humor to his words, spoken with that stolen voice, Dean’s voice.

You turned, useless angel blade at the ready, and gasped. Michael obviously went shopping, outfitting Dean in a perfectly tailored suit. It killed you a bit how fucking _good _he looked.

He brushed his hands down the vest of his suit, dulled green eyes examining Dean’s body. “Yes, Dean does clean up nicely.”

Those eyes flicked to yours as you scowled at the archangel, angry that he’d read your thoughts. “Dean’s not supposed to be all clean-cut and pretty! He’s better when he’s-”

“Dirt and blood-soaked, muddy flannel and denim clinging to a feral frame?” Michael finished for you.

Michael’s words forced you to flash back to Purgatory. Not just a memory but a clear physical replay of Dean standing over you, chest heaving, vampire blood and mud caking his clothes. His makeshift weapon pressed into your neck as he growled, “What are you?!”

You shook your head to dispel the image, fingers adjusting on the handle of the blade. “Stay out of my head,” you demanded, blinking rapidly.

A small smile pulled at his lips, _Dean’s _lips. “Stay out of your head? You came to me and now you’re trying to tell me what to do?”

“I came to get Dean back,” you said, a bit weaker than you intended.

Michael tilted his head and seemed to examine you with more than a little interest. “Dean’s dead.”

His words should have sent rage or pain through you, but they almost didn’t seem to register. You took a deep breath, trying to combat the heaviness in your chest, but it just seemed to get heavier. “No, he’s…he’s not. He’s just…in there.”

“No. The only place where Dean Winchester still exists…” His words were measured, his tone deep and…_comforting_? That wasn’t right…was it? “…is in your memories.”

The base of your skull was tingling, limbs heavy as Michael moved closer to you. “N-no, Dean is-” Your head bobbed slightly as you swallowed thickly around the words, losing track of your thoughts. Dean was what? Dean was…

“You want Dean back?” Again, his words barely made it past your ears. You took another deep breath and blinked slowly as he dipped his head to look you in the eyes. “I can give him to you.”

“I…what?” you asked, your voice sounding far away.

“I can give Dean back to you. Is that what you want?”

“I want…yes…want Dean.” The angel blade slipped from your fingers, thudding to the dirt at your feet.

Michael reached out and wrapped his fingers around your neck…and Dean slammed your back into a tree. Tree bark grabbed at your hair, but you didn’t mind. Your mind was too full of Dean, your body hot with arousal for the first time since you arrived in Purgatory. You grabbed at his jacket, trying to feel him, but he slapped your hands away. “Don’t touch until I say, bitch,” he growled. You nodded quickly, grabbing the trunk of the tree as he worked the buttons of your dirty blouse.

His fingers tucked into the cups of your bra and yanked them down to expose your breasts. You gasped as he roughly grabbed them, fingers digging into the meat of your breasts with bruising pressure. “Perfect fucking tits.” His right hand moved lightning-fast to slap across your nipple and you whimpered, gripping the tree as heat flowed across your nerve endings to settle between your thighs. “Oh, you like that, huh, slut?”

You whimpered. His hand cut across your cheek next. “Use your fuckin’ words. I asked a question.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed in a shrill whisper, afraid to draw attention.

He knew exactly why you were trying for quiet. “Oh, don’t worry about them, sweetheart. Right now, you worry about me.” He dipped his head to your breast, teeth clamping down hard on the nipple and tugging.

“Oh, God!” you screeched.

“_He _ain’t fuckin’ here,” Dean growled, pulling away and standing straight, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes. A hundred emotions shone in those eyes as he wrapped his hand around your throat to put steady pressure on your windpipe.

As seconds marched by with your lungs pulling in no oxygen, your brain panicked. You started to struggle, unkempt nails clawing at his hand and forearm. Your chest burned as you went woozy, vision starting starting to tunnel as he watched your face intently. His eyes seemed to have lost their fire as he analyzed you.

“Oh, not yet,” his voice seemed colder for a moment, too, and something in the back of your oxygen-starved brain told you that you should be worried about that, but then he was releasing your throat and all you could focus on was the sweet rush of air into your lungs. “Don’t pass out, yet, bitch. The fun’s just starting. Get nude,” he ordered, slapping your cheek several times, just hard enough to sting.

You moved as quickly as possible, eager to please the green-eyed stranger. You shifted from foot to foot as he looked over your body, looking at you like a piece of meat. For a flash, you thought he suddenly had a hat on but when you blinked, the hat was gone.

He licked his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it as he appraised you. He dropped his hands to his belt, but didn’t open it. “You want this cock?” he asked, eyes hard but full of passion again.

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“I dunno. That didn’t seem very enthusiastic, sweetheart.”

“Please, I-”

His hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of your hair, twisting you as he shoved you to your knees. “You’re gonna ask real nicely to suck my cock. You’re gonna beg for it, bitch, and if I like what I hear, I’m gonna fuck your throat and if you handle that like a good girl, _then _I’ll fuck your whore cunt. Get me?”

“Yes.” You tried to nod but couldn’t.

“Try that again.”

“Yes, _Sir_. I understand.”

“Better. Now…beg,” he ordered.

“Fuck. _Please_. Please, Sir, let me suck your fucking cock. It’s been so fucking long. I wanna taste you. I wanna be used. I wanna make you feel good. Please, please, fuck my face. Oh, fuck, please,” you rambled, the pleas falling from your mouth easily, automatically, like you were born to beg.

A small smirk tugged at his full lips, seeming out of place on his face for some reason. His hands pulled at his belt and your mouth watered as he reached into the denim and pulled out his hard cock. “Do it.” You leaned forward and licked at the head. He grabbed your hair again and wrapped a hand around the base of his dick, shoving it in your mouth. “You wanted to suck, fucking _suck_.”

You dropped your jaw and braced your hands on his thighs as he started to thrust into your mouth, seeming to love the way you gagged on each pass of his cockhead at the opening of your esophagus. You dropped one of your hands between your thighs and rubbed at your clit.

“You’re fuckin’ good at that, ain’t’cha?” he grunted. “A good fuckin’ cockslut. You gettin’ off on gettin’ your throat destroyed?”

You whined as he forced your head away from him and hauled you up to your feet. He pushed your back into the tree again, bark digging into your skin as he attacked your breast with his mouth. You cried out as his teeth came down on the globe of your tit, but you just moaned as he moved across your chest, teeth digging into your skin and marking it.

He pulled back and looked over his handiwork, licking his lips and nodding appreciatively. “Hm. Those tits were made for teeth marks. Fuckin’ gorgeous. Now, turn around, grab the trunk.“ You did it immediately, spreading your legs and leaning your forehead on the bark. He roughly grabbed your ass in each hand, then gave each cheek two good, hard smacks. "You ready, slut?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

His cock slipped along your wet pussy lips, bumping your clit before sliding back to your entrance and pushing inside you. He didn’t move slowly, didn’t take time to enjoy the sensation. He took you like an animal chasing his end, his pleasure, and nothing more.

His hands wrapped around your throat again, using it as leverage as he snapped his hips into your backside. His pace slowed as he leaned over your body. “You know what these marks mean?” he asked, moving his hands to your breasts and grabbing them, thumbs pressing in on the bite marks. His voice was calm and even, _cold_, nothing like the fierce and passionate tones from before. It didn’t bug you or raise any red flags, though. Your every focus was on the cock slowly moving in and out of your pulsing cunt, how much you wanted to cum. “They mean you are mine. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you said, fingers scrabbling against the tree trunk.

“You want to be mine, right?”

“Yes, please. I want to be, _fuck_, please.”

“You have to let go. Completely,” he coached. “Can you do that?”

“Let go…yes,” you parroted, but the words didn’t mean much to you. He made a small sound of approval and slipped his right hand down to slip his fingertips between your swollen lips. His middle finger rubbed harsh circles over your clit and you cried out.

“Let go. Now. Cum for me,” he demanded.

The orgasm that crashed over your body was the strongest you’d ever felt and your legs lost every ounce of their strength, shaking and dropping out from under you. Dean’s arms held you up until he was finished with you, but dropped you to the forest floor as soon as his cum was dripping from your used hole.

By the time you came to your senses enough to flip over and look up at him, he was redressed, straightening his hat and smoothing out his long coat. “Get dressed.”

You nodded, scrambling for your discarded clothes. “Yeah, of course, Dean.”

“I have work to do,” he said, dismissively, turning on his heels as you pulled your jeans on. You tugged your shirt on and got your feet in your shoes, desperate to follow the man you loved to whatever work he needed to do.


End file.
